That Which We Call a Rose
by kennagirl
Summary: There is a time and a place for a name like Fleamont Potter.


**_A/N: Based on a reddit comment I ran across. Happy 48th birthday, James Potter!_**

* * *

Fleamont was proud of his name. It was a solid name, a memorable name, one that he was happy to carry in honor of his dearly departed grandmother, may her soul be at rest.

However, he was under no delusions that it was not also an incredibly awkward name.

And while it may catch the attention of the pretty witch sitting at the bar sipping nettle wine, he wasn't sure it would be the kind of attention he wanted from her. He wanted to make her laugh with his charm, not his name.

He quickly decided that his best option was not to give it. Strike up a conversation and garner her interest. Maybe, if she asked at the end of the night, it could simply be a unique feature of himself, like a scar through the eyebrow, or a crooked front tooth. Yes, he would just have to hold off on the name exchange until they'd gotten to know each other a little better.

A quick glance at his reflection in the darkened window showed that his hair was as hopeless as ever, but he still tried to make it do something besides resemble a bird's nest. Resigning himself to his cowlicked fate, Fleamont approached the woman at the bar. "Good evening, miss. May I buy you another glass of wine?"

Her gaze turned towards him and she eyed him cautiously. "I have plenty of wine, thank you." Fleamont's heart fell, and he nodded and turned to walk away. He stopped when he felt her hand on his arm. "However, you're welcome to buy me a plate of raspberry thumbprints to share."

An unbidden grin came to his face, one that she returned softly. "Absolutely, miss. And if it's not too bold, might I say that you are the most fascinating creature in this establishment."

She quirked an eyebrow at him. "And how exactly would you know that?"

"I'll let you in on a secret." He beckoned her to come closer, and she leaned in. "I don't know that. I just wanted to say something complimentary so you would keep talking to me and my mouth spoke without consulting my mind. For all I know, you have the personality of an exhausted flobberworm, though I guess I'll find out based on how you react to this entirely unplanned and far too honest confession."

The statement lay there for a moment, then she burst out laughing, a loud, unapologetic laughter that drew more than a few stares from the other patrons.

It was the most beautiful sound he had ever heard.

"Euphemia," she said, catching her breath and holding out a hand. "And you are?"

"Entirely charmed," he said, taking her hand and kissing it.

She tugged it back and scoffed good-naturedly. "Your name."

Clearly, she wasn't one to be toyed with, which only made her all the more interesting. Unfortunately, it meant that he probably wouldn't be able to hold off until the end of the conversation as he had planned. She was sharp enough to pick up that he was hiding something in his name, and he didn't want her to get the wrong idea. Instead, he threw caution to the winds.

"My name is James."

* * *

To say theirs was a whirlwind romance was an understatement. A week into their courtship, he was asking his father for one of the rings from the family vault. The following week, the ring was on her finger, proclaiming her promise to him to anyone who saw it. Fleamont could not have been more ecstatic that this wise, witty, wonderful witch was going to be his wife. A mere month after their first meeting, he was wearing his best robes in the grove behind Potter Manor next to a Ministry official, his old housemates behind him, her friends across the way, and Euphemia herself nearly floating towards him.

It felt like something surreal, and he kept sneaking glances at her to make sure she was still there. She gave her own pointed glances at the officiant, reminding him to pay attention. She even subtly pinched him at one point, proving that he wasn't dreaming. However, nothing could bring him down. Nothing except…

"Do you, Euphemia Catherine, take Fleamont Henry to be your lawfully wedded husband, to give to him that which is yours to give, to serve him in all the ways he requires, to tell no strangers your grievances, and to cherish and honor him through this life and into the next?"

Oh crap.

"Who the hell is Fleamont?!"

Snickering erupted behind him, and Fleamont turned to glare at his groomsmen. Some friends they were. Turning back to his blushing bride (although the red in her face probably had a lot less to do with blushing at this point), he grinned sheepishly.

"Euphemia, my dear, my sweet…"

She arched an eyebrow at him. Right.

"I have been almost entirely truthful with you from the start. Unfortunately, the one thing I wasn't exactly honest about was my name."

Her gaze was still steady on him.

He tugged at the collar of his robes. "As proud as I am to carry on a family name, I know it stands out and can sometimes make the wrong impression. I wanted a chance to get to know you, and then I was so swept up that I forgot to tell you." She remained unimpressed, but her eyes were softening. "In light of this, despite it, can you still find it in your heart to marry me?"

At this, her eyes rolled. "So help me, you silly man, I will still marry you." Relief flooded through him as she broke into a grin. "At the very least, you've proved this won't be a boring marriage."

"I strive to be many things, but never boring."

She shook her head, facing the officiant yet again. "Don't think I'll ever let you forget this. I have half a mind to name our first son so that you can't escape it."

Maybe he should have taken the underlying threat seriously, but he was too busy feeling warmed by the suggestion. James Potter certainly had a nice ring to it.

* * *

 ** _Fun fact: the first time Sirius heard this story over midnight hot chocolate with Euphemia, he laughed for twenty minutes straight. That was when it became clear to him that James' utter inability to be cool when confronted with Evans was hereditary. It was the first time he'd so much as cracked a smile since he moved into the Manor._**


End file.
